


Quench the Flames, TOS!Spock/Nu?!Kirk, R

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dark, M/M, Mental Instability, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Red Matter, Underage Characters, dubcon, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:51:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Srs bsns timefuckery, on top of everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quench the Flames, TOS!Spock/Nu?!Kirk, R

__  
**Fic: Quench the Flames, TOS!Spock/Nu?!Kirk, R**  
  
In response to a [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/stxi_sinfest/2909.html?thread=442205#t442205) at this weekend's [](http://stxi-sinfest.livejournal.com/profile)[**stxi_sinfest**](http://stxi-sinfest.livejournal.com/) , lyrics to Springsteen's "I'm on Fire," requesting TOS Spock and Nu!Kirk. Underage and accordingly dubcon, dark and squicky as hell, cleaned up and expanded from the original post. Major character deaths.

  
\--

It is wrong. Indubitably so. But he has lived a full Vulcan lifetime doing the right thing and has watched his frail, human friends die lonely deaths. He has watched, too, as his supposedly superior Vulcan colleagues fall prey to emotion and self-doubt they claim to be so above. He is no closer to certainty as to which path he should have chosen, human or Vulcan, before he follows Nero than he was when he first enlisted in Starfleet, a lifetime of service to both cultures regardless.

He has melded with Jim so many times in their universe that his death left a hole as gaping as Vulcan's in this universe-- when he meets this Jim-- melds with this Jim Kirk, not yet a Captain, only barely a man, so painfully young, so pained, generally, the ache radiating from him in waves that nearly bring Spock to his knees-- he sees and feels and tastes in all the ways one can only sense in a meld all the ways this James Tiberius Kirk will fail and succeed and it breaks him-- because this Kirk, blue eyes afire like a gas flame, is even more lonely, more flawed than the Jim he knew, the one isolated by the events of his life upon Tarsus, and though Spock had no intention to pry into this Jim Kirk's mind, the minds are so familiar in so many ways that he learns all in seconds without meaning too and is-- horrified-- sickened-- worried-- and as broken now as this Kirk, this man-boy who does not believe he is meant to be Captain but will-- must-- if anyone is meant to survive.

As he watches his young friend shake in realization of events to come in the near future, Spock is as drawn as ever he was-- he is also more distant in time, though closer in physical space, than in the universe where he could reach out and call Jim _t'h'y'la_. Here, he knows what Jim will see when an older man reaches for him, so Spock does not reach-- does not touch-- merely smiles and says encouraging words.

He is as angry now as when he battled his Jim during his Plak Tow during T'Pring's machinations on Vulcan, and the anger is in large part at himself-- he arrived too late in this universe to meet the ghosts in this Jim's mind in person. He may be frail, for a Vulcan. He could still kill a human bare-handed. He would.

\--

He retires to New Vulcan and commits himself to the continuation of his race, ensuring its growth with the birth of six progeny in two years' time, triplet sons and then triplet daughters. He continues his research and frequently consults with the Federation and the Vulcan Science Academy-- his foreknowledge and love of this universe's inhabitants is life-saving on several occasions, but he does not flatter himself-- if he provides warning and technical knowhow and commits all he knows to data chits for use by Federation Intelligence, entrusted to Jim and Admiral Pike, the fact still remains that Jim and the younger counterparts of his old friends apply the information in brilliant ways Spock can admit they would have never consider, he and the older versions of this brighter, harder universe's individuals. He finds himself affronted when others call him "Prime." The multiplicity of universes and the constancy of the Uncertainty Principle makes it impossible to say which universe occurred first, much less which one is better-- certainly, he has learned things from these Enterprise crew members that his old colleagues could never have dreamed of.

One thing, however, remains constant. This Jim is also lonely and distant-- determined to be an island-- and he is isolated not just by Tarsus but by a stepfather whose abusive conduct is the converse of Spock's personal urges only in intention to harm rather than care. And Spock is aware of the yawning gap of their ages-- how this Jim and his Jim and probably any Jim in any universe available to Spock would find it "creepy" for as man so old as he is to approach and attempt make good on the connection and promise Spock never acted upon out of ... hesitance? Cowardice? A lack of that same boldness that made Jim a great Captain and yet so very lonely?

He continues his research and contemplates the various paradoxes, the various universes, all the issues involved-- and in the end, toward the tangible end of this life, he happens upon a stroke of luck in a time of terrible grief.

"I just wish there was a way to stop something like this from happening again," McCoy says, and younger as he is, his grief at the dual losses of Captain and First Officer-- slaughtered in the last battle, sacrificing themselves to stop the alliance and dual encroachment of the Sphere Builders and Borg-- is as deep and enraged as the "Bones" Spock knew-- more so. He commanded the _Enterprise_ with more tactical strength and less hesitation in the wake of Jim and Spock's loss than Spock's McCoy ever could, and his desperate measures wrested the ship from destruction when it would have otherwise been lost.

"Just doin' what Jim would've," he'd said when Spock commended him on his actions and came to view the mens' bodies-- he had been asked to confirm that Spock's body, while living, contained no brain activity. They were both so young-- this Spock only thirty six, Jim just thirty one. His counterpart's body is healed-- but the essence is missing-- irrevocably torn.

"I have been researching," Spock ventures, and the Southern doctor looks at him keenly, intent, and more than a little bit manic from grief. "Not in this universe... it is too late... but another..." and the doctor nods, because the fabric between the universes is as thin as an epidermis in places and a cut in one causes bleedthrough to another, or so he explained to his "Bones" once before and this one appeared to follow the theory.

"Have you ever heard of a _katra_ , Doctor McCoy?" Spock inquires, and he is glad that he brought his reconstructed jellyfish, his new fuel, all his reconstituted red matter with him on this trip to _Enterprise_ , docked as it is over Earth and waiting for Admiral Pike to board and relieve the crew of command and commend its' senior officers' bodies for burial. They don't have much time.

"Tell me," the doctor rasps, steeling his jaw.

\--

He walks up the driveway of the small farmhouse, noting the need for repairs. There is a thirteen year old boy in the yard-- terribly thin, vulnerable, and Spock hopes in this universe that the abuse has not yet shifted from physical to sexual-- much. There is a part of him-- broken, the part that understands his mirror counterpart well-- and while he does not relish the idea of Jim's being a virgin-- the notion of contrasts and some of his work being done for him also appeals to him with its efficiency.

And yet-- Jim is clearly Jim, utterly beautiful, and in Spock's strong, thirty-six year old body, with the _katra_ of a one-hundred and forty six year old man, Spock can at last really protect him-- and have what is his.

"Can I help you?" Jim asks, clearly suspicious, and Spock shakes his head.

"No, Jim. It is I who can help you."

Jim watches him warily, clearly taking in his Vulcan appearance, his strange, non-human attire.

"Perhaps this would work best if I explained in a way particular to my people," Spock offers, then moves past Jim onto the porch and into the house. Sitting down on the couch, he looks calmly at Jim as Jim follows him in, blonde hair white from the sun and skin tanned, eyes so wide and blue in his face and yet so deep-set in famine-hollowed cheeks that Spock's hunger for Jim's physical body-- so long unassuaged-- can and will be set aside a bit longer. He has not been able to insert himself into this universe at as close a point in the timeline as he might like-- Jim has already been to Tarsus and back.

"Come here to me Jim," he says, beckoning. "Is your stepfather home? Or did he leave you unattended?"

"I've got chores to finish," Jim says, looking wary, and why shouldn't he be, he has no idea who Spock is or how he knows him. "I'll get in trouble if they're not done when he's back," he continues, and his small shoulders hunch in as Spock's anger grows.

He unfolds his young body from the item of furniture-- shabby, neglected, a metaphor, surely-- and stands before Jim, placing a strong hand on the small trembling body before he can bolt.

"Listen to me, James Tiberius Kirk. I am now and always will be, your friend. I am going to be a very good friend to you," he continues-- then places his hands on the boy's psi points, focuses inwards and down and ... proceeds to enter Jim's mind.

It is wrong-- indubitably so. But he no longer cares. He has seen Jim die twice because he was convinced that he was not good enough until he died proving himself and Spock will not allow it again. He lays a foundation for something different-- and possibly simpler. When he pulls away from the meld, Jim smiles at him, trusting, then follows him up to his room so they can pack.

The transfer of custody works very smoothly, Jim testifying truthfully to the closed hearing with the Children's Services Tribunal and with no coaching from Spock. When Jim faints from sheer terror when his stepfather lunges for him before Jim even begins to describe anything besides the mere physical discipline, Spock is relieved-- when Jim smiles and cuddles into his lap when he wakes from his faint, shoving his head under Spock's robes during the ride back to their hotel, Spock is the one who smiles.

Nero fiddled while Rome burnt, and Nero laid in wait and laid waste to Vulcan rather than use the red matter to go back and save Romulus in his own universe-- not a paradox of time but of madness. Spock is self-aware enough to realize that by meddling in this universe-- by not allowing this Kirk to grow up so damaged-- by claiming Kirk as his mate and molding and building him into the confident, beautiful man he will be with calm guidance from a sufficiently early point-- then this universe may burn when a Nero failed by another Spock comes seeking revenge.

When his body turns forty in this universe, he quenches the flames stoked in him by his Plak Tow in Jim's body and Jim smiles, beautiful, sated, and his. Jim's sixteen year-old body is beautifully flexible and he has the refractory period of a Vulcan in heat. They are an excellent match.

It is wrong, indubitably so. Spock does not care-- he is happy. So is Jim-- the meld tells him so.

The good of the many can go fuck itself, a vulgar colloquialism he learned from his Jim that is most apt to this situation. Spock chooses the good of the few-- he chooses Jim. 


End file.
